


Tapping Secondhand

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-01
Updated: 2004-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I was born doing reference work in sin</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tapping Secondhand

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between episodes 1.21 and 1.22. A little bit AU. Title and summary taken from Anne Sexton's _With Mercy For The Greedy_.

Lilah likes standing at her window, looking out at the view. It's shit, but with Lindsey moving up, it's only a matter of time before she does.

The latch of her door clicks open, and she glances casually over her shoulder, ready to shred the dignity of whatever clerk has interrupted her without knocking.

It's Holland.

She turns to face him, smiles as calmly as possible.

"Lilah." He nods, circumnavigates the room, taking the time to trail his hand over the numerous reference books on her shelves.

"What can I do for you?"

He stops walking. "Something big is coming up."

She tilts her head. "Something big?"

"Regarding Angel." Holland smiles. "We need to know more about his friends. The girl in particular."

"You want me to investigate?" It's not something an associate usually does.

Holland shrugs, walks out of the room. "I trust you'll take care of things, Lilah," he tosses over his shoulder.

*

 

When she has a spare hour, she has a clerk pull the files on Cordelia Chase. She also gets Steve from Security to put surveillance on her. She even has Accounting synopsize the many ways Mr. Chase cooked the books, just in case it comes up in discussion.

Mr. Chase, she notes with amusement, is a bad, bad man.

Lilah sends an interoffice memo to Accounting. He might be able to contribute something to the firm.

*

 

It's only three days before Cordelia's weekday pattern is established, and Lilah peruses the schedule with interest.

Jogging at 9:10 a.m.  
Breakfast burrito at 9:30 a.m.  
Doughnut run at 10:15 a.m.  
Angel Investigations at 10:45 a.m.  
Phone call to agent at 1:30 p.m.  
Late lunch, including swinging by a butcher's shop, 2 p.m.  
Acting class at 7:00 p.m.  
Lights out before midnight.

It varies, like any schedule does, but there's only so much variety an out-of-work actress with no car can fit in.

On the fourth day of surveillance, Cordelia's morning jog is interrupted when a white van screeches in front of her, and its inhabitants yank her inside.

*

 

Cordelia wakes up in what looks like a jail cell, complete with bars, scratchy blanket, and a truly unflattering jumpsuit.

"It's not that bad," an unfamiliar voice intrudes, but when Cordelia's eyes adjust to the low light, she recognizes the speaker.

"Lilah, right?" She stands, smoothes the wrinkles on her jumpsuit as much as possible, and smirks. "Wolfram and Hart's favorite bitch."

"No pun intended, I suppose," Lilah replies, but she smirks back.

Cordelia sits back down on her cot, crosses her legs. "Angel will rescue me."

"Yes." Lilah spins on her extremely expensive heel. "We're counting on it."

*

 

Cordelia's no good at keeping track of time, but she's pretty sure it's only a few hours before Lilah returns, Angel and three armed goons in tow.

Cordelia jumps up from the cot before remembering that she wasn't worried, and crosses her arms. "It's about time."

Angel shrugs, his face blank. "Traffic."

"Really?" She uncrosses her arms. "Did you try side streets?"

"As fascinating as small talk is," Lilah cuts in, interrupting Angel's reply, "it's time we cut a deal."

Cordelia's and Angel's eyebrows rise simultaneously.

"I know, I know," Lilah placates, "Angel's already here to save you, so what could we possibly have to talk about?"

"Whether or not you leave the room bleeding," Angel mutters, oblivious to the still-present goons. "That could be fun."

"I could say the same," Lilah replies, "but that gets kind of old, doesn't it? You threaten me, I threaten you, you attack, I have your ashes sprinkled over the cigarette butts on the roof." She slips a hand into her pocket, pulls out something that looks like the remote for a car alarm. "Or we could do this instead."

She presses a button, and glass slides down behind the bars of Cordelia's cell. A hiss sounds, and something noxious begins to smoke in through the vent.

*

 

Lilah chases the surveillance team out of the storeroom with a sharp smile and a veiled threat. She rewinds the final few minutes of Cordelia's stay in her cell, watches it over and over again.

_Cordelia screaming _(sound on mute)_, banging on the glass while Angel goes berserk, flinging two of the guards across the room before the final one manages to stun him with a well-placed taser. _

_Lilah leaning coolly against the bars of the cell, remote in hand, as Cordelia gurgles and falls to the floor. _

_The gas, sucked out of the cell again, the glass retracting, and the cell door swinging open._

_Lilah and the final guard exiting the room, and Angel crawling forward to touch Cordelia, making sure that she's still alive._

_Angel, recovering, and picking Cordelia up, and walking out of the room, out of the camera's eye._

Lilah smiles, rewinds the tape again, and then presses the eject button.

Then, she picks up the receiver of the phone next to the monitors and dials Holland's extension.

"Holland?" She buffs her nails against her chest, symbolically. "I think I have what you need."


End file.
